Saturday, 5 April 2014

Words in Motion - Feature Poem of the Day National Poetry Month

Conversation Going Nowhere

As I knelt by your graveside, thoughts of your 
coolness licked against my fiery skin. I traced 
the S’s of your name, chased the moss from 
the curves of earth’s granite. Your hand upon 
my shoulder, slipped past—
a breath of displaced air, disguised 
in a sigh.

I wanted to tell you that Gerry finally came home. Four paws 
clicking and tail hung low. Thought you might 
want to know. Deer ate the tulips again, a young doe 
with twins. Tiny spotted things. 

I wanted to ask where you put the instructions 
for the furnace. It’s mighty cold this spring: the bees 
might not hatch. And where’s the edging shovel, 
the green handled one? 

I wanted to know, if I‘d said sorry, would
you have left in such a fury? Would you have paused 
long enough to scratch Gerry behind the ears? Long enough 
to fasten the gate? And in that moment 
robbed fate 
of her early morning meal?

                                                                Cathy Yard

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